


Destined to Fail

by Keolah



Category: Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind
Genre: Fate, Gen, failure - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25584388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keolah/pseuds/Keolah
Summary: The Nerevarine lost, and Dagoth Ur loves to hear himself talk.
Kudos: 8





	Destined to Fail

He stood before me, the golden-masked god, and he asked of me, "Before I slay you, Nerevar, I shall grand you one final request. What would you ask of me?"

I looked up at him, wearily, bleeding and exhausted. The battle had been hopeless from the start. I'd always known that. Just as I'd known I was obligated to fight it nonetheless. I did not begrudge that obligation. But now that I lay here in failure, I could not even ask him, beg him, to spare me. What would be the point? It would not nullify my obligation. It would not free me from fate.

"I wish to see your face, Voryn Dagoth," I said quietly.

"Very well, my old friend. I shall grant you your wish."

I wasn't sure what to expect. A hideous, deformed face like those of the monsters I had fought through to get to this place? Or the face of one who had once, in another life, been my friend? I would not know if it were. Memory is a fleeting thing, and whatever memories I might have borne of that life are long gone, lost in a hundred reincarnations. Perhaps it's for the best, but I don't find it comforting that I will forget this life as well.

Dagoth Ur reached up with ashen hands and took the golden mask from his face. An ashen face to match the ashen body, like one had tarnished the golden skin that the ancient elves had once borne. Scarlet eyes, like one had stained the sun with blood. Was it a face that might be found on any other Dunmer of the Third Era? Or perhaps it was more of a Dunmer than even the Dunmer, like he was the template for which every other dark elf was merely a poor imitation.

"Are you satisfied, Nerevar?"

His voice was like music, unfettered by the slight muffling of the mask. Chords that echoed softly through the chamber like any strange harmonic magic the long-lost dwarves might have envisioned.

"I will forget again," I whispered.

Dagoth Ur looked down at me with a strange expression. "Such is the failure of mortal memory, that cannot handle the eternal and divine."

Was it regret that showed in his eyes? Sorrow? Sympathy, even, for a fallen friend who had betrayed him? I couldn't tell. Perhaps I was merely imagining it, or projecting onto him what I might have wished to see.

"I don't want to forget again."

"Then submit," Dagoth Ur said. "Join me, and I shall spare you."

I laughed hoarsely, until I coughed up blood. "Would you really? You told me yourself you'd never be able to trust me, and why would I even blame you, after I've apparently betrayed you at least twice now?"

"Perhaps it need not be that way," Dagoth Ur said. "I seek to bring change to the world, do you not see? Do you not comprehend my vision?"

I see his eyes now, his crimson eyes, and they're wild and filled with madness. He truly believes in what he's saying.

"Don't you see what you're _doing_?" I ask.

"I am building a glorious garden in this great land! I shall sweep away the invading outlanders and usher in a new age of wonder!"

"You are _killing_ the very people you claim to be fighting for," I tell him.

It's hopeless, I know. I didn't stand any real chance of getting through to him. He was in too deep in his madness. There was no salvation to be had here. Prophecies be damned, I was just yet another failed Incarnate.

My hand fell and rested upon a pocket, and felt something hard and round inside. The 'lucky coin' given to me by an old Imperial soldier I'd met in the fort on the way up the mountain, who may or may not have been an avatar of the god Talos. What a lot of luck it had brought me. Maybe if I'd worn it on a neck chain or in a breast pocket, it might have at least stopped a potentially fatal blow against me, but other than that, I couldn't see what good it might do.

Dagoth Ur rambled endlessly about his plans. How he would take his golem, powered by the heart of a dead god, to conquer all of the world. A fool's plan, and even I could see it.

"Why do you need the golem?" I asked. "Aren't you already a god? I mean, you're certainly immortal, for all that I've failed to kill you."

"The other peoples of Tamriel must see it and bow before my might!" Dagoth Ur declared.

I sighed, and climbed shakily to my feet, clutching an arm around my torso to hold my wounds closed just a little bit longer and not bleed to death faster than I already was. At this rate I'd have already died of blood loss long before this delusional godling finished enjoying listening to himself speak.

"Yes, it's definitely a magnificent creation," I drawled. "May I take a closer look, that I might admire your handiwork?"

The ancient Dwemer tools with which I might have manipulated the heart lay scattered on the ground behind me, discarded at some point during the epic battle I so utterly failed at. Maybe I was never meant to win here. Maybe the prophecies didn't mean what we thought they did. What was it they said? That I'd eat their sin, or something like that? How did anyone interpret this into meaning that I'd defeat them?

I suddenly realized that I understood nothing.

Also, the Heart of Lorkhan appeared to be too big to swallow. Perhaps that line was not meant to be taken literally. It was probably the blood loss making me lightheaded that I found that far more amusing than it should have been.

While Dagoth Ur was monologuing again, I surreptitiously took the 'lucky coin' out of my pocket and wedged it between the mechanisms around the Heart of Lorkhan, jamming it in far enough so that it wouldn't be easily visible. With that petty act of sabotage being all I could manage, I stumbled a few steps away and slumped to the ground.

"Voryn, I'm dying," I rasped. "I've brought you Wraithguard. You can use it to wield the hammer and knife to unleash the power of the heart and activate your golem now. I don't begrudge you that. You've won. I am defeated."

"It is good that you have acknowledged that, Nerevar," Dagoth Ur said. "Before you die, I shall grant you the privilege of being the first to witness its power."

He placed the mask back on his face and went to collect the tools, careful to slip Wraithguard onto his hand before picking up the dagger and hammer. Wielding them unprotected was supposed to be instantly deadly, and while I hadn't been foolish enough to try it, I could only imagine that he had attempted it in desperation at some point. It wasn't as though he could stay dead, as my failed attempts at killing him already proved.

Maybe if his activation of the golem went poorly enough, it might actually stick.

He struck the heart with the sound of a chord sharp enough to cut glass and bone. With the second strike, the world exploded.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm alive, and trying to get back into writing again.


End file.
